


Loveless Love Child

by Seventeen_Tim_Drake



Series: “Father, you're an awkward idiot.” [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon Divergence, Cute Tim Drake, Family Issues, Janet Drake’s A+ Parenting, Sad Tim Drake, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventeen_Tim_Drake/pseuds/Seventeen_Tim_Drake
Summary: If Tim Drake was no Drake—Janet and Bruce had a one night stand and produced Timmy.
Relationships: Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Series: “Father, you're an awkward idiot.” [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133426
Kudos: 167





	Loveless Love Child

As all tales began, the night was cold and damp with rain—Thunder roared, forcing even the mightiest to hide. 

In the dark, the Bat laid low, succumbing to the allure of the Empress.

Surrounded by velvet and scantily covered by satin, the pair tangled within the sheets, bewitched by the power of the other. 

The Bat roars with his release, and the delicate, supple body of the Empress trembles at the ferocity. The soft wanton moan she gives back is rewarded by the Bat capturing her mouth, and there they lay in the cold dampness of the night, warm and fulfilled. 

It only lasts for the night, and in the morning, they are but mere strangers yet again. 

* * *

Three weeks after that night, and neither have spoken. Bruce Wayne desperately attempted to contact his Empress, but she shut him away completely, returning to her husband. 

Four weeks after, the Empress discovers something about her body, and she’s horrified. Janet Feng-Drake is pregnant with Wayne. She bears the child of Wayne. 

Dropping the test on the floor, she covers her mouth and tears fall. Jack finds her in this state, and she quickly gathers herself, smiling graciously. 

“We have a child, Sir Knight,” speaks the Empress, an elegant smile of politics shining. “We have been blessed with the arrival of a child.”

The man from the family of English knights smile, overjoyed with the news. He didn’t quite catch on how she never specified it was from both of them. Only that a child will be arriving soon.

Happily, the man picks up his wife—His family is to come, and he will only treat them with the finest of things money could buy.

The wife will never mention that the son is not his. After all, the husband is enough of a fool to believe otherwise. 

The Empress goes on with her pregnancy smoothly, but the Bat will never hear of it. She personally makes sure of it.

In her announcement, she made the party small and seemingly intimate. 

“It’s the greatest joy I’ve received,” she states, making a show to lovingly rub her stomach. “I wish to share only with my trusted people my baby’s existence.”

Jack approaches, ever the dutiful knight, smile plastered to his face, urging her to rest and sit.

“I, too, have been overjoyed by the news.”

And just like that, giving each of them the feeling of exclusivity, they won’t utter a word. There will inevitably be mumbles, but no one will dare utter a word. 

The Bat won’t hear of the baby, and that’s all Janet could ask for now.

* * *

Nine months pass, and Janet looks at the little bundle of joy in her arm, an open expression of happiness in her tight lips and soft eyes. 

“My little, darling prince, Mother loves you,” she whispers, and the child squirms gently, nuzzling slightly. “Mother loves you.”

The child is peacefully asleep, and Janet gives a sad smile. “My dear, darling Timothy, Mother loves you.”

Ruefully, she thinks… Can she be the mother she describes… Can she truly love this little prince in her hands?

_No_ , she thinks. _She cannot._

The boy will grow up lavishly, and she will come to hate him. The boy will live like a prince, and she will be tempted to poison him. Perhaps she will succeed, perhaps she will not, but it is in her very nature to want to ruin the little darling. Make him feel as unloved, unwanted as _dirty_ as she was made to feel. 

After all, before Janet was Janet Drake, she was Janet Feng, the one and only heir to the Feng name. She was never a woman made to be a mother. She was an heiress, was always made to be the best. Even if her parents made it abundantly clear that * _she*_ would never be the best.

Only powerful men mattered, after all.

Tutting, she bites back her resentment, drowning the urge to throw the spawn of the man who signified everything she simultaneously detested and wished to be.

She calls the nurse and hands away the thing in her arms. She calls her assistant and asks about the dig in Cairo that she’ll be heading to in two weeks.

* * *

At three years old, Timothy stares into the luminous night, all alone in the empty labyrinth of white, marble walls. 

In his periwinkle pajamas, he hops down his bed, clutching tight to his elephant plushie, Seunie. He really helped Tim calm down and listened to him lick his wounds and whine about childish things. 

He had the same dream again, about the boy acrobat whose parent’s died. The memory played over and over again, plaguing his thoughts non-stop in the past week.

_The poor boy must have it worse,_ Tim tells himself. It’s what his parents tell him.

_These night terrors were silly, childish affairs. There are far more important things_ , Tim tells himself again. _Things like the tomb of some long-lost prince of Egypt recently found in Cairo. No one knows who he is, Timothy, someone must’ve deliberately erased his name. Far more important than some silly nightmare._

He thinks about the masked man in the bat regalia. Tim thinks he’s quite weird, prancing around in such a getup. Mother would disown Tim had he worn the same suit. Mother already hates him, after all. Tim wonders what that man’s mom must think about his life choices. 

But then, the man’s mother might be proud too—Her son helped the city of Gotham tirelessly, stopping crime as much as he could. 

Tim thinks that such an action is foolish as well. After all, it’s only stops the surface level, it doesn’t stop the roots of corruption within the city’s great divide. 

Walking around, he heads to the kitchen to grab water from the fridge. He walks through the corridor, masterful of the path, going through the series of paintings on the wall. 

Tim walks under the painted sky, through the painting of a woman in red all the way to one of Cesar’s assassination. He goes to the left and stops, noticing his mother there, staring at the baroque bat highlighted by the moonlight from the grand window.

She notices him in her red, satin negligee and black velvet robe, and beckons him over.

Clutching onto Seunie tighter, Tim walks over, head low and apologetic at being outside of his bed this late at night. Once his little feet lift off the ground, his lithe figure embraced delicately, his jewel blue eyes snap upwards. 

“Mother?” 

His inquiry was met with harsh, cold eyes, and a strict tone, “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry for being out of bed, Mother…” Tim lowers his head again, sad and somber, lips pressed tightly as he hides behind Seunie. “I promise not to do it again.”

Janet looks carefully and sighs, swiping a figer to his adorable cheek. She carefully observes her son, and she notices how he is all her. Same black, midnight hair, same jewel eyes, same face shape, and even the same air of superiority surrounding them. She notices his fair skin, adorable smile and intense stare. The qualities his father passed onto him. 

“Your father is an amazing man, and that is why I hate him,” she says, and Tim is confused. 

Tim always thought of Jack as a fool, and he was sure his Mother agreed. He stares, his eyes focused. 

_What was his Mother thinking now-?_

Janet touches the bat, and her gaze takes on a touch of nostalgia. “A great build, and an even greater mind, and the greatest of fortunes.” 

“Tall, dark and handsome,” Janet continues, going over to the window, Tim firmly in her hands as she stares. “Soars through the night and does honest work in the day.”

“Gave me you,” she finishes, a bitter look in her face. “My worst and greatest gift.”

“He’s far too great to be real.” 

_You’re not talking about Jack, are you, Mother…_

Tim feels himself uncurl and wraps his pudgy, adorable arms around her. 

_It’s the most honest you’ve been with me._

“I love you, Mother,” he whispers. 

She will hate this moment of vulnerability later on, so he will savor it. He will think of it fondly no matter the circumstance. 

Tim wonders—Who is this amazing man that Mother speaks of. 

The following day, Janet and Jack were gone again, and Tim is left to his thoughts. 


End file.
